Place We Were Made

Something in the Orange

Mid September came quickly. It brought the autumn wind everyone knew would only last a day before it would go back to the sun and heat yet again. September was one of New York's bipolar months when it came to weather.

Betty had finished packing up her things the night before and loaded them into the car while everyone was asleep. Now she was in the kitchen, hugging everyone goodbye and reciprocating the numerous 'I love you's' that were shot her way. Even if sometimes she hated to admit it, this was her home. She loved it here.

It was just after eleven when she was peeling out of the driveway and heading in the direction she hadn't been in weeks. Her heart was pounding and her head felt lighter than usual. The radio playing country love songs was only making her more nervous, so she switched it off and opted to listen to the smooth sound her car made as it traveled across the pavement until it was met with gravel. That sound was unnerving, too. Every part of this was unnerving.

She had been preparing the speech she told herself she would tell Jughead once she saw him again with her book in hand and how she wasn't going to take anything he said to heart. But she knew that was so far from the truth. She would swoon even if he told her to go fuck herself.

She was still humiliated for so brazenly admitting that she was in love with him when, in reality, at that point in time, she had no idea if that was the truth. She had been so crazily jealous of Evelyn that telling him that was the only words she could find in her mind that she knew would cut him. She never expected to put him in distress, though.

Once at his residence, she sat in her car trying to compose herself. She continued to softly talk to herself while looking into her own eyes in the rearview mirror, trying to insert words of confidence in herself. It wasn't working well.

She had a plan to be in the city by nine at the latest that night, although she wasn't sure if that was going to happen. She didn't have to be in New York until Thursday, four days from now, for a meeting with Jaylene and Robin to discuss how they would begin promoting the book, since Betty hadn't been doing that much while writing.

With a huff, she shook all of these irrelevant thoughts out of her head and finally left her car. Although, she had to return due to the fact that the whole reason she was there was sitting on her passenger seat. Finally after a few more internal struggles, she was knocking on Jughead's door with a slow, calm exhale.

There was a creepy silence about his house and from where she was standing, she could see the raised ground with a makeshift wooden cross to the left of her, just off the porch.

Hotdog's grave.

When she heard the news she had lost it and regretted ever cutting herself off from him. But now it was too late to go back to the past, so she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry again.

The door opened halfway and her breath hitched. It was shocking to see him standing in front of her again, it felt like years had passed.

"Hey," he breathed, shoulders relaxing, and she raised the corner of her mouth in a small smile. He glanced down at himself and sighed, trying to brush his hair off of his forehead. "You can come inside and sit. I guess I really should be ready for the day by now."

She walked inside past him and kept her eyes down at her feet. From what she could see, his house looked - and smelled - freshly cleaned.

"This is all courtesy to Jellybean," he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. "She came and freak cleaned 'cause Brad did something." He shrugged as if their whole dynamic hadn't been shifted by what she said. And maybe it hadn't and she was reading too much into it, but it was taking her longer to find her words. "I'm going to go upstairs and put myself together. Give me ten minutes, please. Make yourself comfortable. Oh, and there's a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen."